Phantom Limb
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *Dave/Karkat, ongoing* Karkat's life had turned into an inward spiral of familiar routine, where nothing much existed outside of courses and solitary movie nights. Until he happens to bump into a stranger on his way to college, and time starts ticking again.
1. Chapter 1

**SOY:** First chapter of a long project of mine :3 please enjoy and if you want, add a review!

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**Rating**: Mature for themes and later content.

**Warnings:** Karkat and Dave's speech. Mentions of past death.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HomeStuck.

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**Phantom Limb**

**Chapter 01**

Karkat Vantas, 10 sweeps old, hated Mondays.

He hated the fact that the bus stop was always filled with bleary workers with bags under their eyes and kids of all ages dragging themselves to their school of choice, a cacophony of sounds that managed to overcome the music coming from his earphones, grating to his nerves.

He hated the smog, and the never-ending line of cars blocking every orifice and crevice of the roads, making it almost impossible to get to class on time, let alone _breathe_; the toxic fumes filled his nostrils, making his stomach churn in disgust, clenching around his lungs and suffocating him slowly with every step he took.

Thankfully he didn't eat anything before leaving his communal hive, because otherwise his food would have a very intimate encounter with the ground somewhere between 3rd Avenue and 7th High Railway Road.

Karkat _never_ ate breakfast, because he also hated walking to class with food lodged between his teeth, crumbs all over his clothes and fingers sticky, but he conceded himself a cup of coffee, bitter like his mood, to start each and every day of the week.

He hated coffee, too, but it was the only way to keep him standing long enough to get to his morning class.

Karkat abhorred people speeding on the sidewalk and brushing past him, heads staring at the ground, looking like emotionless puppets moving with only the virtue of strings tied to their legs, but that had left the heads free to slouch forwards.

He disliked the taller trolls with wide, ample horns that didn't care whether they hit others with them or not, and he disliked people slamming against him in their haste to hurry up towards whatever pointless excuse of a job they had.

He hated having to walk across the street, too, because the traffic lights turned green but the cars –damned contraptions– speeding the other way never seemed to want to slow down until it was too late… and even then, walkers had to rush to the other side of the street, or else end up having an intense, first-hand meeting with a fender.

Despite that, he had to make his way through the crowd without fail if he wanted to follow his courses at the local college, no matter his personal recriminations against people at large. Karkat needed to study if he wanted to make the ends meet later in life, and that was it.

Simple.

As such, Karkat took in stride the masses of people surrounding him, all in the same situation as he was, and walked with his head hung low, ignoring them as they ignored him.

Though not all of them did so.

Behind him was another figure, a female troll a few inches shorter than him, smiling and happily showing a row of dangerous teeth to the world, even though the world was merrily ignoring her presence, and the fact that her feet were so light on the asphalt that they never even touched it.

In fact, her whole body had a weird feeling to it, and it was probably the fact that it was see-through, thin and opaque, of such a texture that if any of the people around could see her, their eyes would find it hard to focus on her figure, the contours blurring into the air.

The only thing that wasn't evanescent of her were her shades, crimson lens that looked to the eye almost tangible and more real than the rest of her presence, and behind them, open wide but glossy and dead –deader than her, at any rate– a pair of dull, red eyes.

Karkat himself was also unaware of her presence, though the troll was clearly following him, trailing behind him step by step, not caring whenever a person stepped right through her, as unfeeling as she was to the things of the living world, more focused on the troll stomping down the street to care about others to begin with.

His thoughts were still fixed on the same, familiar pattern of sleepy dislike, unhinged by the unseen presence.

Every day was mostly the same –or at least, every day he had class early in the morning– but Mondays were worse because he'd spend the weekend resting and relaxing at his hive, drinking sugary beverages and eating unhealthy, junk confectionaries, and having to return to the outside world after that was always hard.

Karkat Vantas really _hated_ Mondays.

Musing blasting in his auricular sponge clots, trying and failing to overwhelm the vexing noises of a group of younger scholars at his side, waiting with him for the traffic lights to turn green, Karkat tried to muster up the energy to care about the three-hours period he was going to, but it was hard.

Mornings were hard.

Life was hard.

Hard as fuck.

The troops on both sides of the crosswalk converged in the middle of the road, hastily making their way to the other end, bumping against each other, troll with human and human with troll, grey and brown and pink and olive and reddish mixing into a blur of colours, then dividing, individuals turning into a crowd then back to being individuals, never even glancing at each other.

Karkat's even pace slowed only for a moment when he found himself in front of the door of a patisserie, the delicious, thick scent of croissants wafting towards him in a misty vapour, enticing his senses enough that he halted, glancing through the window to catch sight of the rows of sweets inside.

He didn't really have time to enter the shop and purchase something, but the smells were addicting, and they lifted some of his bad mood as he peered inside, eyes travelling from one mouth-watering pastry to the next.

"Excuse me," the voice was low and monotone, coming from behind him, and Karkat was shaken out of his enthralled trance, realising he'd been standing in front of the door for quite a while.

He hastily moved to the side, taking a few steps back, but the stranger didn't move.

He was tall, though Karkat was taller by a few inches, and was wearing a pair of dark, large shades that completely hid his eyes from the world. Even with them on, Karkat was able to infer that he was probably around his age.

The human had both hands secured into the pockets of his coat, an ugly, maroon thing that even Karkat, lacking any sort of fashion sense, would have never tried on himself, and a bag loosely held under his arm; his head was tilted towards him, in such a way that Karkat was sure he was looking right at him.

The staring continued for enough time that Karkat started feeling extremely uneasy under the scrutiny, unable to see the guy's eyes to confirm the thought but pretty sure the guy was actually glaring at him; he felt his good mood evaporate due to the silent examination, annoyance quickly overtaking his awkwardness.

Baring his teeth instinctively, his frown deepening, Karkat returned the glare with one of his own.

"What are you looking at?" defensive tone, shoulders hunched slightly, as if expecting the human to physically retaliate, even though he knew it wouldn't happen, Karkat tilted his chin up, showing he was unafraid and ready to engage in a verbal fight, if things came down to it.

"This street here's free territory, I'm allowed to look at whatever I want to," the stranger drawled on, shrugging as he finally spoke up. "Wasn't looking at you specifically, though, so take a chill pill alright?" his lips twitched upwards in a smirk.

Incensed at the guy's attitude, but not willing to put up with his irritating presence, Karkat grunted a half-hearted "fuck you," and left the delicious smells of the pastry shop to stomp his way down the street, resuming his walk towards his campus.

It wouldn't do to let such a discomforting encounter ruin his mood further, after all.

Karkat turned a corner and side-stepped as an elderly lady shakily made her way in the opposite direction, muttering under her breath words he didn't hear.

The fluttering, incorporeal troll still following him didn't need to avoid the woman, passing right through her, her attention leaving Karkat for only a moment, glassy eyes flicking back to the figure of the human, who had shaken himself out of his staring and was entering the pastry shop.

Looking forwards again, the ghostly figure continued trailing after Karkat, familiar and at ease with the pace and already knowing where he was going.

The university campus appeared in front of him as soon as Karkat turned another corner, the suffocating sea of people trickling down to a more tolerable stream, mostly composed by students like him with a few adults here and there; Karkat hurried up some more, checking the watch on his wrist, surprised to see that for once, he might actually make it with only ten minutes of delay.

His fast pace turned into a mild jog, grunting at the few people waving at him as he passed by, and reached the lecture hall in record time, breath coming out in shallow gasps as he pushed the door open.

It didn't bulge.

Blinking in surprise, his frown deepening when a stronger push didn't have any result, Karkat stepped backwards, looking around with a lost, confused expression.

"You here for Mathias Lodge's lesson on Troll Hemotriarchy?"

Karkat turned around, staring at the short human with ruffled hair standing behind him, a pile of books in both hands, and grunted an affirmative.

"Professor's sick," the guy stated, shrugging with a sheepish smile. "He left a note over at the Information Point, all classes have been cancelled until unknown date".

"Holy mother of all that is fuck," words tumbled out of Karkat's lips before he could think better of it. "And instead of being a sensible living being, which is apparently far too much to ask of a person whose sadistic tendencies only come out in the amount of additional work he commissions to us poor, masochistic souls following his course, and sending everybody a fucking mail, he drops. A fucking. _Note_," he tilted his head to the building on the other side of the campus, where the Information Point was, "_Over_ _there_. What a rotting–"

The human in front of him snickered, interrupting the litany of expletives, and Karkat's lips snapped shut, feeling slightly silly for his loud outburst.

"Since you don't know about his cyclical sickness it means you just started the course this semester, right?" the guy snorted, pointing his thumb over at the closed classroom. "It's not uncommon if one knows where to check. Also, he fills up the blanks by leaving homework on his webpage".

"Oh, of course," with a defeated groan, Karkat slumped slightly and turned fully around. "Thank you," he stated, shaking his head slightly. "You also following his lessons?"

The lesson on 'History of Hemospectrum and its importance in the ascend and descend of Troll Empire before and after the Third Major Troll War' (shortened into 'History of Troll Hemotriarchy' by most non-troll students) was actually a pretty interesting course, and it was hard to find an empty seat, so it wouldn't be surprising they'd been following the same course without knowing.

The human shook his head slightly.

"I tried taking it last semester but it was impossible, it clashed with my other classes so I dropped out just a few weeks ago, haha," he scratched the back of his neck, then pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well I'm off to my class, see you around!"

With a happy wave, the nameless guy skipped merrily away, leaving Karkat in front of his class door, unsure whether to feel annoyed at the guy's cheerful disposal on a Monday morning, or actually grateful he'd taken the time to stop and tell him about his missing class.

He decided to stay largely on the grateful side, if only because it would be a waste of precious energy to get annoyed at someone who was already gone, and simply turned on his heels and marched out of the campus.

Suddenly free of his daily class, left free to roam the wide, spacious world of the city in a morning he would have more than happily spent in his recuperacoon sleeping, Karkat felt all the loathing inside his thoracic cavity melt into a grey, thick sludge that slumped on the bottom of his stomach.

He felt tired all of sudden, and in dire need of another coffee, if only to make sure he didn't fall asleep on the metro.

The female troll, as yet still unnamed, continued following him, twirling a few inches from the ground, apparently amused with his attitude and grinning at the colourful words he'd used.

The trip to the closest Starbucks didn't take much, and Karkat left the shop with a cup of brown liquid, mixed with enough sugar and cream to completely nullify the already watered down caffeine of the beverage.

With nowhere else to go, Karkat retraced his own footsteps home, sipping the coffee every few steps, until he found himself standing once again in front of the pastry shop from before, and there, surrounded and mellowed once more by the fragrant scents of confectionaries, he halted again.

As he didn't really need to rush this time, nothing waiting at his hive but his own solitude, a computer and his romcom DVDs, he lingered there for a second of two, deliberating whether to enter or not, and then nodded to himself, opening the door with a determined push.

The bells attached on top of the door chimed at his entrance, the door sliding shut behind his shoulders, a whiff of warm air surrounding him as he breathed in the delicious scents, even more penetrant now that he was inside; the troll ghost, not at all impeded by barriers such as walls and closed doors, passed right through the window pane, smiling at the scents that she could also taste by breathing them deeply into her senses, and returned to Karkat's side like an unmoving, dutiful guard.

Busy as he was perusing the various sweets he had in front of him on the front counter, Karkat only lifted his head when he heard the clerk shuffle towards him.

"Good morning," he started, clearing his throat, one finger already pointed towards his sweet of choice. "I'd like one of–"

His words trailed off when he came face to face with a familiar visage, a pair of big, black shades covering half of it and surrounded by pale blond hair.

"_You_," he hissed, unable to stop the low, soft rumbling of his throat at the sight.

It was the guy he'd met earlier, who'd stared unashamedly at him, hiding his eyes behind those stupid as fuck shades.

"Good morning," the guy, now lacking his unfashionable coat and donning a red and white t-shirt, but still wearing the shades (who the fuck wore shades inside a building anyway?) looked at him without expression, his lips set in a thin line. "Welcome to Crocker's Pastries, what can I get you?"

Cheeks turning a darker grey, annoyed by the guy's nonchalant attitude, felt his anger spike. He sneered despite himself. "Maybe an apology would be a good way to sweeten my day," he stated.

The human rapped his fingers on the counter, shrugging. "I already said I wasn't ogling you, though, man, so why don't you drop it and just order what you want?"

As it was, Karkat truly _wasn't_ a people person. His socialization skills amounted to a handful of trusted friends, and as such he was easily flustered when he had to confront people in public places.

This person was sort of infuriating, and Karkat, despite having had coffee, was still annoyed at having had to leave his hive in the first place, and he _really_ disliked being stared at, especially by strangers.

He didn't look like much, he knew it, with stubby horns and messy hair, but he was still self-conscious, disliking when attention was shifted to him all of sudden; that was a strong reminder of his earlier childhood, stemming from his prominent fear of being culled by the system for having a mutated gene in his blood.

Karkat had been born, much to his dislike (as it was bound to be a complication when your own existence was fought against), with blood of a colour that only humans (and a single other troll in the history of _ever_) shared –a bright red.

Troll culture wasn't nice on genetic mishaps, and Karkat had survived to his tenth sweep only thanks to having a highblooded moirail, and to his own skills at keeping a very low appearance all the time.

As such, when Karkat felt the eyes of the other clients around him on his back he cringed, disliking their curiosity, instinctively feeling the need to lash out.

"Maybe I don't quite want to order from a place that hires someone who so freely gawks at complete strangers on the street for more time than it is sensible to do," he grunted. "I thought that would be quite fucking _rude_".

There, the edge of the human's mouth twisted in a displeased frown, and Karkat felt somewhat vindicated.

"Then I have to ask you to get out of here," tense, thick, the human's tone was altered, but still calm as he pointed him to the door. "I told you once, man, I wasn't looking at you, and now you're here making a mess while I'm working, the uncouth one isn't being _me_".

Karkat felt the flush on his cheeks turn darker, customers around him whispering and pointing, and didn't have to be told twice; with a flourish he spun around, pushing the mix of anger and shame down into his guts, and stomped out of the pastry shop, briskly walking down the street.

He waited until he'd put a corner between himself and the shop before sagging against the wall, cheeks still darkened in shame.

Instantly, regret hit his stomach like lead, and Karkat slapped his hand to his face, groaning at his own sheer, astounding _stupidity_.

He'd made a fool out of himself, and with fresh air hitting his face, cooling his anger down again, the remains of his coffee growing cold in his hand, the previous bout of rage felt useless, and unwanted.

'_Fuck,'_ he thought, overwhelmed with a complex mix of guilt and shame, _'I'm really an asshole, huh'_.

Even if the guy with the shades looked like an absurd tool, that didn't mean he could just attack him for things he couldn't prove –and in truth, Karkat had to admit it, the guy had been adamantly negating his accusations, so maybe…

Still, with such an exaggerated reaction, Karkat had proved to be the unreasonable one.

Was his belief that the guy had been watching him enough to justify being chased out of a shop in the first place?

Karkat Vantas, 10 sweeps old, was feeling like a complete asshole, and unfortunately for him, he also felt guilty enough that if he went home now, he would still feel like shit for the rest of the day.

He hesitated, back pressed against the cold wall, and carefully weighted his actions and their consequences, nails tapping mindlessly against the bricks, eyes trailing upwards to watch the greyish sky.

There weren't many options that he could safely pick, not when he'd just offended a random stranger with his own idiosyncrasies, and the idea of going back inside the pastry shop wasn't appealing in the least.

Even if he hadn't been busy cursing at himself as he was, he would have still being unable to notice that the ghost troll was snorting at him; she fluttered close, circling him and snickering, the sound barely a soft huff in the air, lost in the wall between her reality and that of Karkat. Her feet touched the ground and she hummed, slouching forwards until she could _almost_ touch him.

"Still the same," she murmured, her voice echoing strangely in the air, and full of warmth. "_But_ you have been unfair, Karkat," she continued, her mellowed features sharpening again in a dangerous smirk. "What to do, hmmm?"

Karkat abruptly looked up, and the other troll pulled back slightly, dull eyes growing wide, even though she was sure he couldn't hear, nor see, her. In fact, Karkat had just reached a decision regarding his poor attitude, and when looking up all he could see were the waves of people walking the streets and the cars honking whenever the ones preceding them seemed to slow down too much.

There was, for all he could see, no troll standing close to him, observing him carefully.

Straightening his back, Karkat swiftly moved down the street, a troll on a mission, chin held high and flush quickly disappearing behind the usual pale grey of his skin. Soon enough he'd grabbed another coffee cup from the Starbucks, the fanciest thing he could find, and holding it close to his chest, he stomped back towards the pastry shop, only to pause and shuffle awkwardly in front of it, teetering close to the window pane just out of sight, so that he could peer inside, but have nobody inside see him in exchange.

Karkat glanced down at the cold treat he was holding in his hand, feeling more like an embarrassed, pathetic grub rather than an adult troll; then again, he had to admit that there weren't many times he felt he could call himself an adult and do it righteously.

Unable to enter the shop again, plagued by embarrassment as he was, but also not wanting to waste the Starbucks cup now that he'd spent money on it, Karkat spent the following few minutes cursing at himself, colourful words only half-muttered in righteous anger, making passers-by turn to look at him, only to hasten up their pace.

Karkat was shaken out of his mumbling fit when, after the door was pushed open and the bells chimed softly, a figure stopped closer to him, suddenly invading his personal space.

Looking up, Karkat paled slightly at the sight of the human wearing shades standing inches from him, hands again nested in the depths of his ugly coat, and Karkat noticed a single eyebrow rising above the line of his shades, as pale as his hair.

"You accuse me of staring at you, and then you stick around the shop after throwing a prima donna show in there," the guy's tone, although containing a light shade of annoyance, was mostly amused. "Did you maybe fall in love with me at first sight, or something?"

Cheeks shifting abruptly from pale to flushed, Karkat straightened his back, the guy's words striking a chord inside. "Of fucking course not, that's just an enormous pile of bullshit rolling from your mouth! If you ignoramus want to keep on deluding your horrid self about that, then–" he suddenly stopped, mouth hanging open for a second as he realised he'd been about to let his own mouth run along again.

Clamping his mouth shut with a small click, swallowing in shame, Karkat shifted away from the human, wanting to keep some distance; his hands tightened instinctively around the Starbucks coffee and he was reminded of what he was doing there, and how it had by no means anything to do with getting angry again. Quite the opposite.

"Here," he grunted out.

He shoved the coffee into the human's chest, surprising him, and watched him look down, clearly wondering what this was about.

"Wait," pushing his shades up his nose with one hand, the guy tilted his head towards Karkat's face. "You remained standing outside the shop for over an hour just to give me _this_?"

"I accused you wrongly and I am a sorry excuse of a troll," Karkat hissed, cheeks still flushed a dark grey. "And I humbly _apologize_ to you".

There was a long silence, in which the human simply stared at him, and Karkat wondered, idly, if this would make the guy think he was crazy. And yet, Karkat believed that he was in the wrong, and as such he needed to offer a proper apology, as he was doing.

Came what might, Karkat would feel much better now.

What happened was, much to Karkat's utter shame, that the human snorted softly, his lips pointing upwards in a smile before he covered it with his hand, a soft breathy laughter quickly suffocated by his fingers.

"You're something else, really," having calmed down, laughter gone just as quickly as it had appeared, the human held out his hand and slid the Starbucks cup out of Karkat's fingers. "Ok, apology accepted, we're tight as bros now, all is forgotten, but let me just comment on your bad choice of coffee, like…" he shook the cup slightly, listening to the sound of liquid sloshing inside the plastic, "this here is no drink. No wonder you're so touchy, holy fuck, ain't no way to start a day, this shit is nasty as fuck".

Karkat, flush long since forgotten, openly gaped at the human, who'd just moved from accepting his apology gift to downright insulting his choice in coffee.

A part of him wanted to feel annoyance, to muster up the energy to tell the fucker off and stomp back home, feeling at least content with knowing he'd managed to settle the dispute and apologize to him, but…

He snorted softly, unable to stop himself.

"You…" he opened his mouth, then once again paused.

He didn't even know the guy's name, and that abruptly made him stop smiling; although his idiocy was honestly embarrassing enough on its own, and he was fairly sure the guy was just letting his mouth run for the sake of dispelling the cloud of awkwardness around them, this was still a random stranger he'd insulted gratuitously.

A sort of annoying, weird tool with oversized shades and an ugly coat.

Why was this amusing, again?

"Dave," apparently unperturbed by Karkat's sudden silence, the human offered the troll a fist, and Karkat stared at it before looking up at his face, confusion depicted all over his visage. "Dave Strider," the human continued.

Karkat's confusion cleared slightly, but there was still the matter of the offered fist.

"Uuh…"

"You're supposed to bump it man," the human called Dave snorted. "Are you sure you live in this century?"

"Excuse me?!"

"C'mon, don't let me hangin' there, man, that's unfair!" Dave pushed his fist forwards, and Karkat watched it with wide eyes, wondering if he'd made a mistake in waiting out of the pastry shop for a guy such as this one.

He didn't _look_ crazy, and he was sure no shop would hire someone _crazy_, and yet…

With some hesitation clearly shown on his face, Karkat extended his hand, forming a fist, and Dave bumped his own fist against it, just a bare contact before retreating.

"There, all done," he smirked, looking like he'd just done a good deed, and Karkat couldn't help but snort again.

"You are weird," he found himself declaring.

His words, though that hadn't been his intention, seemed to actually please the quirky human called Dave, because his smirk grew slightly bigger in reply.

"Ok, that done, let's trash this shit," without mercy, Dave turned to the side, located the nearby trash bin, covered in graffiti and ad stickers, and promptly threw the Starbucks coffee into it.

"What the fuck?!" Karkat surged forwards, rushing to the trash bin, unable to touch it –fear of infection through litter would be a very obtuse, miserable way to die– and then spun around, glaring at the human. "I bought that for you! As an _apology_!"

"I'll just ignore the fact that 'as an apology' you wanted to poison me with bad coffee, but I will be magnanimous and forgive you anyway, because you didn't know better," the human seemed on a roll, completely ignoring how he'd just sort of insulted Karkat. "So… uh," he paused, tilting his head and managing to look expectant even though the troll couldn't see his eyes. "You have yet to give me your name".

"Karkat. Karkat Vantas," the troll grunted out.

This human was really something else.

"Well then, Karkat! Let me show you what a real coffee tastes like!"

That said, with a swift, fluid move, Dave turned around and moved down the street, only pausing a split second to look above his shoulder at the still motionless troll.

"You coming or not, Vantas?"

Frozen in place near the window pane of the pastry shop, completely taken aback and glancing back and forth from the weird human to the trash bin that now contained his peace offer, Karkat allowed himself a split moment to think.

This here, was something he wasn't prepared of. Every part of him, like a single entity, was chorusing in confusion, unsure whether to take a step towards the human, or let go, turn around, and return to his normal life.

He wasn't sure, in all honesty, what this guy, this Dave Strider, wanted from him, weird and quirky and so easily forgiving.

"What the hell," he huffed out, throat clicking to echo his distress.

"You wouldn't ignore me, would you," with a mocking expression of sadness, only visible around those shades, Dave pursed his lips. "You already caused me so much distress, taking out your anger on me in the shop…"

"I can't believe you're using that against me!" Karkat's emotions were having a hard time keeping up with the human, too, moving from anger to amusement, and once again back to anger, like a pendulum swing.

Dave shrugged instantly, not even missing a beat, "nah man, I'm kidding. But you seriously need to find yourself a better dealer, 'cause Starbucks can be all shiny and nifty but it got nothing on a good cup of strong coffee, d'ya get me?"

With a soft, defeated groan, Karkat abandoned all at once his previous prospects of a nice, calm morning at home, buried in his pile with junk food and maybe a good romcom, to follow a stranger down the street.

He was probably teetering towards insanity, or maybe he'd already fallen head first into it, welcoming the craziness into his open arms, mindless and stubborn, but as it was…

Karkat didn't have quite much to lose, wasn't that right?

Fluttering in the air, light steps bringing her to follow them, the unnamed troll ghost grinned, crossing her fingers behind her back, and emitted a soft, contented sound from her throat.

"I _like_ you," she breathed in the air to the human, floating down until she was at Dave's side, keeping his pace in front of Karkat and turning around, delicate and transparent, to look at the troll who was following them.

His head tilted towards Karkat, who was approaching him quickly, stormy expression of uneasiness taking up all the space on his face, Dave conceded himself a small, amused smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**SOY:** Here you go, second chapter! This is also mirrored on AO3, for those who'd like to check out the rest of my HS fanfics (which are rated _porn_ and thus can't be published here).

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**Rating**: Mature for themes and later content.

**Warnings:** Karkat and Dave's speech. Mentions of past death.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HomeStuck.

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**Phantom Limb**

**Chapter 02**

Dave Strider, 22 years old, enjoyed working for Croker's Pastries.

While that was by no means the job of his life, as it wasn't even remotely connected to the things he was interested into, or the things he would love to get paid for, he honestly _liked_ it.

He only worked there in the mornings, and mostly out of obligation, as the owner was his brother's best friend, but that didn't diminish his willingness to wake up early to get there; Jane Crocker, owner of the shop and one of the bakers, had been in trouble when one of her workers had fallen victim of a resistant, persistent flu, leaving her shop unattended, and Dave, at the time searching for a part-time job to fill up some time between lessons, had jumped on the opportunity with glee.

Part of the reason Dave had been so eager to help out, other than putting aside some money for his everyday expenses, was that he would be able to poke fun at his best friend, who had against the name Crocker quite a grudge –even though, and that was half of the irony for Dave, Jane had nothing to do with the large empire of Crocker Corp, aside for sharing the surname with the much renown baking logo.

In fact, Jane always seemed to deny, quite viciously, any correlation between herself, humble girl, and the massive, rich empire of miss Crocker, and if nothing else, Dave could admire her skills at finding ways to avoid the subject.

As it was, though, the job came at the right moment, and Dave had no hardships at inserting himself in the world of work.

His job was to serve the customers and be the cashier –thing that was easy for him, as math unravelled itself in front of him like a lover would to capable, expert hands, and Jane had instantly dropped the reins on him, as she had no qualms admitting her own skills at accountancy were abysmal.

Dave, with not many expectations for a job he'd done out of a simple whim, had found himself taken by the slow pace and the familiar, returning faces of the customers, breathing in the scents of the sweets surrounding him, a good start for his days before he had to leave for his university courses.

He wasn't one to settle down, far too vocal, too shifty to be able to find roots that could stop him, and every time he left the shop he would find himself rushing back into his hurried life, as if time had momentarily stopped for a while, enough that he could enjoy his job, before reclaiming his attention.

Dave's attraction was centred on music, on spoken words, on actions and on the way people moved, gestures and attitudes, expressions and movements; he was an avid observer of people, of the way they shifted around him, creating patterns and weaving life with every tilt and shift of their frames.

The shop, brimming with life, always welcoming new customers and selling delicious sweets, was a delicate, protected bubble that had unveiled itself to Dave's eyes, where he could meet people and watch them through the privileged position of a seller.

He didn't have to dance and move with the crowd, rushing and spinning around, high-speed, to catch all that intrigued him.

He could observe it from behind a counter, feeling time shift around him, leaving him untouched, giving him the chance to _see_.

Every morning, from Monday to Friday, Dave woke up early, dragging his body out of bed and into the streets, senses coming to life as he watched life unfold around him.

People cursing at each other, or smiling, muttering on the phone or calling out to someone lost in the crowd. The twitches of people waiting at the crossroads, pace hurried as they moved everywhere around him, like buzzing bees.

Lost within the crowd, Dave felt like he could feel every second ticking by as he observed and registered and wove words in his mind, mixing his particular tunes together with the noises and the colours of the city.

His special, private songs.

Then he'd step into the shop and time would _still_, and welcomed warmth would give him a respite, allowing him to calm down, to breathe, and observe more from a different perspective.

Dave Strider, 22, liked his current balance. Working every morning gave him the only routine of his life, and that was fine.

For everything else, rapid and instinctive decisions were how he rolled.

Sitting in his usual table in a small tea house two corners away from the pastry shop, Dave observed the troll in front of him, eyes roaming from his stubby horns, barely peeking from his hair, to his sharp features, eyes slightly larger than normal, the soft curve of his nose.

The guy looked angry, wound up and tense, like perpetually at war with the world –or maybe, Dave mused with a smirk, merely at war with the city.

Obviously, his lack of taste for good coffee was part of the problem.

Dave had no trouble shooting people down whenever they annoyed him –he was quick with words, spelling out deceiving rhymes that could confound most people, making them stumble over themselves until they were putty in his hands– but he also knew which battles to take, and which to drop.

This troll, Karkat as he'd called himself, had at first lashed out at him, grumpy and annoying, only to take everything back, even going as far as to wait for Dave outside of the pastry shop with a treat, much to his amusement.

Dave liked meeting unpredictable people, and he liked even more ones who could surprise him, as this guy had done.

Spontaneous actions, and a bit of a mystery –that was what intrigued him.

"What the fuck is this place," Karkat muttered, looking around.

The shop was spacious, bright and not at all shady, much to Karkat's surprise; he felt slightly more at ease, but he still couldn't believe a random stranger had just brought him there to _drink_.

"A tea house, of course," with a small shrug, Dave grasped one of the menus on the table, idly flipping through it even though he knew exactly what to get.

"Why am I here?" Karkat asked again, though he clearly wasn't expecting an answer.

Dave smiled, eyes flickering from the troll's face to the rest of the room.

"Because you need to be educated in the art of coffee, Karkat," he idly used his name, getting a small grimace as an answer, the troll wrinkling his nose at him.

It felt a bit strange, and Karkat's face, while unfamiliar, had something on him that made Dave's senses tingle. He usually didn't forget a face, unless too bland to be worth sticking in his mind, and Karkat Vantas was anything but bland.

He looked sharp, and angled and sturdy, the way he moved testified of training regime and carefully contained actions, hands that made Dave think of weapons, of his own childhood days spent sparring with his brother on the roof of his house.

Karkat had been carved through self-control and toughness. Dave could appreciate it.

Maybe the troll couldn't get what _he_ did, stealing fleeting glances at more than just Karkat's visage, but that was, alas, something else entirely.

"Starbucks is a decent coffee," Karkat replied, though the soft growl underlining his statement was enough to uncover the lie in his words. "Well, ok, fuck," he slapped one hand on his face, groaning. "It fucking sucks, the taste probably equals that of the worst sludge I could create by mixing chalk powder with the finest mud sticking on my shoes on a rainy day".

"Now you're talking more like it is," with a nod of approval, both at the choice of words and at Karkat's admission, Dave tapped his fingers on the table, and a waitress slid towards them, smiling.

"Hey, Dave! Welcome back!"

"Yo," he lifted his hand in greeting, his lips twitching into a small grin as he looked at her.

Karkat blinked, looking up from the menu in Dave's hands to the troll waitress, noticing the curved ram horns on her head and her long black hair neatly tied behind in a ponytail, probably for health reasons due to her job.

She looked young, and had some reddish makeup on her eyes, and the wide smile was almost contagious, so much that even Karkat could feel its warmth; the symbol she wore on top of her waitress uniform was an Aries in dark red, which placed her on the low side of the hemospectrum, but still above Karkat's bright mutant red.

Her eyes moved around the room, as if searching for other customers before looking back at Dave.

"The usual?"

"You know it," he nodded. "As for my new friend Vantas here…"

Karkat, feeling slightly flustered, looked at him again, and found both the human and the waitress watching him expectantly.

"Uh…" he swallowed, "what are you expecting me to say? You were the one who brought me here in the first place to taste some 'decent coffee'!"

"Oh, so that's the special of the house, then!" with a happy smile, as if Karkat had just ordered something incredibly expensive, the waitress signed it down. "Back in a moment!"

She skipped away, still grinning and tilting her head slightly as she stepped near a table, only to disappear behind the corner, into the staff-only area of the tea shop.

"This isn't going to cost me a fortune, right? This better not be your way to spill money from my pockets, Strider," he used the guy's surname, not feeling comfortable with his name just yet, "Because I'm not sorry to say that I'm not exactly swimming in bucks".

Dave snorted into his hand. "No, chill. I'm paying. I made you come here, didn't I? It's just coffee. They make a good one, I tell you".

"Sorry if this comes out harshly, but–" Karkat stared suspiciously at him, "Who the fuck are you, dragging a perfect stranger to a tea house just to offer him coffee after he insulted you? You're one weird fuck".

With a snort, Dave shook his head. "You were right, that was harsh as fuck".

Karkat grunted, his throat echoing his words with a clicking sound, "Forgive me for hurting your sensibilities, then," he sneered.

"Apology accepted, Vantas–" then, it finally clicked in Dave's mind, and he snapped his fingers together, straightening his back. "Ah-ha!"

"What?! Wha–" Karkat looked around, taken aback by Dave's loud exclamation, but he could see nothing wrong in the empty tea room, so he returned his attention to the human.

"I remember you now!" looking quite proud of himself, Dave leaned forwards a bit, pointing one finger at the troll. "You were in the debate class last year".

Karkat relaxed slightly, the mention of college courses soothing his worry a bit for some reason.

"I don't remember seeing weird douchebags then," he answered.

A part of him felt unsettled, because the teasing insults rolled out of his tongue with ease, and Karkat shifted a bit, wondering about it. It was rare for him to feel amicable with strangers, especially in such peculiar circumstances, but there was something of this human guy that rubbed him in a certain way, almost reminding him of someone…

Dave sneered, "You were far too busy ranting your head off against Min to notice anyone around," then he shrugged, "Was amusing to watch".

"Min?"

"Meenah Peixes," Dave replied without missing a beat. "Long hair, quirky styled speech pattern, trident ready to poke at your insides…"

"Oh, shit, yeah," Karkat actually shivered, his encounters with the deranged tyrian blood far too fresh in his thinkpan. "That girl sure did like talking".

Dave looked at him, one eyebrow peeking from above his shades, keeping silent long enough that Karkat, reminding himself that he'd been just as eloquent during his debate class, had the decency to flush slightly and raise both hands in a surrender pose.

"Fact is, I was kicked out of that course," Dave admitted, shrugging. "Professor didn't like it when I started trying to get people to rap with me during debates".

Karkat snorted. "Holy fuck, I think I remember you now," eyes narrowed, Karkat leaned forwards, both hands pressed on the table. "You tried to make that poor kid on the wheelchair spout sick fires for over half an hour before someone intervened and ended his misery".

Dave rolled his eyes, although it got lost behind his shades. "Tavros n' me are best friends, what are you even saying, it wounds me".

They looked at each other, momentarily appeased with having slotted the other into the list of their acquaintances, and the waitress took that moment to slide back into the room, a tray with a two steaming cups on them.

"Here you go, apple tea," she placed the cup in front of Dave, smiling brightly when he thanked her, "and our coffee blend," she placed the other cup in front of Karkat, looking at him expectantly.

"Thank you," he stated, watching her leave again.

She paused in front of the empty table again, hand brushing against its surface, then left the room once more.

Quirky girl.

"Give it a try man, then you'll never want Starbucks in your life _ever_ again," Dave prodded him, busy sugaring his tea and stirring it with a teaspoon.

"Apple tea," Karkat lifted both eyebrows in wonder.

"Everything apple is delicious," Dave replied, tilting the cup to his lips to take a satisfied sip. "AJ's the best, but you never go wrong with this shit here".

"Somehow I hadn't taken you for a tea drinker," Karkat mused.

He finally understood who the human reminded him of, and it made him almost smirk; Dave's attitude, his snarky words… he made Karkat think of Sollux.

He could concede it, in fact –Sollux was his best friend, and they had started their friendship with a conversation much similar to this one, bantering from one side of the computer to the other, back and forth, until it felt like they had known each other since forever.

That was why the feeling of talking with Dave felt familiar, and why Karkat, despite not knowing the ass, had felt at ease.

Sollux was going to laugh at him, that was for sure.

Absently, the troll brought the coffee to his lips, stirring it once again before taking a careful, testing sip.

The liquid was far too hot against his tongue, so he hissed and grunted, quickly letting it roll back to his throat as he swallowed, and then, lips parted to curse, he finally felt the taste, and blinked.

Oh.

The flavour was actually rather good, with a bitter aftertaste and a much stronger, spicy flare, and he licked his lips, quickly sampling the coffee again.

He looked up, startled, and his approval was probably written all over his face, because Dave was smiling knowingly at him.

"Told you so, that coffee's the bomb".

Karkat had nothing to say to that, and instead busied himself with the cup, nursing it slowly as not to finish it too quickly; sip after sip, he allowed the caffeine to rush through him, offering a much stronger stimulus than the shitty Starbucks thing.

"Holy fuck, this coffee is delicious, I don't think my mouth has ever been agreeable to caffeine but I've been totally converted to this beverage," surprised to see the cup empty, Karkat placed it down, mournfully.

"Yep," looking quite smug, Dave finished his tea before it cooled down too much, and sighed, feeling the familiar warmth linger in his stomach.

They remained sitting for a moment longer, now strangely awkward, staring at the emptied cups, then Dave stood up, shrugging lightly. "I have a lesson in half an hour," he explained, seeing Karkat shift his eyes to him. "I hope you're feeling much less annoyed with the world now that you've had decent nourishment, hmm?"

Karkat mumbled something under his breath, his throat rumbling softly, but didn't negate Dave's statement as he followed the human to the counter, deciding that he could let the guy pay for his coffee since he'd dragged him all the way to this place.

If he had to be honest with himself, Karkat felt good; it was a nice change from his usual, ritualistic tradition of going home right after his courses, and although prompted by a very weird, embarrassing situation, it was ok, just this once.

Besides, the discovery of such a quiet place where he could get some good coffee… Karkat was glad he had now another option that was _not_ Starbucks.

He idly perused a nearby shelf, impressed by the coffee beans on display, wondering if he could get a package to bring home and learn how to make, and Dave started chitchatting with the cashier, a bulky troll with a broken horn who glanced at Karkat in vague disdain, probably put off by the fact that the symbol present on Karkat's sleeve was sewn in grey, instead of a proper colour.

Karkat, having grown up used to getting sideways glances because of his anonymity, had long since stopped caring for what other trolls thought of him, lost within the depths of the Hemospectrum with his own mutant, weird colour.

He might be a genetic mishap, but he'd fought just like them during the trials, and the reward to keep on living was his to keep, too.

The ghost of the troll, who had been sitting quietly on top of a table and had been idly listening on their banter, shifted up when the two did, preparing to follow them to the cashier, but a quiet voice made her halt.

"Do you need any help passing to the other side?"

She stopped, twisting her neck a bit, almost confused to hear the waitress talk to the empty room; when she noticed the Aries' eyes focused on her, empty red eyes widened behind her glasses.

The waitress was actually talking to _her_.

Fluttering inches above the ground, fingers tightening their hold on her cane's shaft, the ghost licked her lips.

"You can… see me?" she let confusion bleed into her words, but soon it was washed away by pleased surprise, a wide grin replacing her pout when the living troll nodded sharply, smiling. "Well, that's really new!"

Whereas usually her voice failed to become a sound living beings could hear, this time it seemed to travel without scattering into nothingness, and the waitress actually _heard_ her.

With a laugh the ghost troll, for a moment abandoning her devoted stalking of Karkat, launched herself through the air, pirouetting and approaching the quiet Aries, who tilted her head to the side, brushing hair away from her face.

Her eyes followed the spirit's every move, almost as if to reassure her that yes, she could see her.

"No, I don't," the ghost finally replied, tilting her body forwards until she was inches away from the waitress, who didn't move away. "I didn't think someone could see me".

"It is not common, I know!" the waitress' smile was blinding, and it received a similar wide smile back from the ghost. "I suspected you didn't need help, but I always feel like I'm supposed to ask that".

A cackle was her only answer, the ghost pulling away and tapping the cane in the air, mimicking standing on the ground.

"You a psychic?" she asked, curious and still leering.

"Not quite. The right word is psychopomp!" still smiling, the waitress started cleaning the table where Karkat and Dave had been sitting. "It's a gift I had since I was a child. I try to help the spirits of the deceased into their next life, when I see them. You seemed to be quite attached to that boy, but you don't feel ill spirited, or angered".

Sitting in mid-air, legs neatly folded underneath her body, the ghost placed her cane to the side, not letting go of it as its shape started blurring, slowly disappearing from sight, until it was gone, lost within the folds of the ghost's incorporeal reality.

"I am not, that wouldn't be _fair_," she replied, and a soft breeze rattled a nearby shelf, making the glasses on it tingle.

"I suppose," with an amused smile, the waitress straightened up, glancing at the troll and the human at the counter. "You didn't tell me your name, wayward ghost!"

"Terezi," was the soft reply, slightly hesitant as she spoke her name, almost as if fearing that a mention would make her disappear.

"Terezi, well, if you're trying to obtain something in particular in this life before leaving, then maybe you wouldn't mind having someone to talk with, right?"

With such a contagious smile, even the harsh, vicious smirk of the ghost, Terezi, had no choice but to turn softer.

"You're welcome whenever you pass by this tea shop, at least so I know you're still keeping yourself on this side of the veil," the rustblood continued, motioning for the ghost to follow her. "It is always nice to talk with a new face, dead or alive as it might".

The grin was back on Terezi's face, although the moment Karkat moved away from the counter to get to the door her attention was back on him, fluttering his way, unmindful of the potted plant she had to pass through.

"I might take you up on that offer, miss bright smile!" she stated, words wavering slightly as she moved away. "You smell like cherries, and I like that".

With a small smile, the waitress hummed to herself and returned to her cleaning, the bells on the door chiming as the customers left the tea house.

She knew she would see her again, that was a certainty.

…–…–…

"Catch you around, man," with a curt nod, looking by all means satisfied, Dave started walking towards the university campus.

Karkat watched him go away, lips set in a thin line, and when the human turned around –just once, lifting one hand to say goodbye– he looked away quickly.

He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved to be finally away from the odd human known as Dave Strider, but now alone in front of the tea house, Karkat found himself at loss, a slight uneasiness washing over him.

He didn't know why he felt disappointed –he'd barely met the guy, they wouldn't be sparkling any friendship whatsoever over the course of a couple hours, but that had been a particularly odd circumstance.

Suddenly, the idea of going back home felt almost unappealing, the thought of curling on his pile, with popcorn and a movie not as decent as it had been earlier in the morning, and it perturbed him.

Karkat grunted and tightened his hands into fists, briskly removing himself from the premises of the tea house and stomping down the street.

Around him the crowd had thinned, as it was almost midday –time surely did fly fast, he hadn't even realised he had been around for so long– and Karkat had a much easier time finding a seat on the bus home.

Sitting there, curled up on the seat with his head pressed against the window pane, its cool surface feeling nice against his skin, Karkat refused systematically to let his thoughts wander to his meeting with Dave.

At his side, the ghost eyed curiously the crowd before returning her attention to Karkat, throat vibrating softly in a low purr. In the time she had been at his side like this, she had never had as much fun as today, and she hadn't even been able to interact with people before.

And now, the rustblood waitress.

Terezi glanced at Karkat, eyes sharpening instantly and smirk losing its edge, growing softer and quieter.

She disliked seeing him like that, and she disliked seeing how his life had turned into a boring, secluded routine. The change had been nice, even if it was short lived.

There had been hope –hope in the form of blond hair and a pair of oversized shades– but it didn't feel much like hope now, not when the human Dave had failed to stay around.

It was sort of disappointing, in a way that made the spirit shift uneasily, the cane now replaced in her arms by a strange-looking yellow doll shaped like a dragon.

With a soft sigh, Terezi followed Karkat home, watching his hunched shoulders and wondering if he would ever feel her sadness flicker through the veil that separated them.

…–…–…

Although not having to be present for the classes of Professor Lodge, as the man was sick, Karkat still had to go to campus for his other courses, and thus, he ended up passing in front of the pastry shop at least twice a day.

The first few times, late due to traffic and his bus having had to slow down due to that, he rushed past the windows without stopping, merely sniffing the delicious smell of freshly baked goods before hurrying off.

Returning home, his thoughts focused on getting some solid food in his stomach, he even forgot about the shop, remembering only when he was on the bus home, far too late to do more than just glance out of the window and chastise himself afterwards, almost embarrassed.

The third time, a Thursday afternoon, he had enough time to stop by, wanting to enter and buy something, but one look at the cashier made him rethink his plans –it wasn't Dave.

Slightly upset, but not willing to allow himself to be stupid simply because the weird guy wasn't around, Karkat stomped off and arrived earlier than usual to his class, which should have been positive if he hadn't been in a sour mood anyway.

Returning home, he cursed his own idiocy and stopped by the pastry shop to buy that one sweet he'd wanted to try since the first day and munched on it while waiting for his bus, standing awkwardly at the stop, surrounded by teenagers and women with loud kids, trying not to spray crumbles all over himself.

Friday morning saw him waking up earlier than usual; due to a minor strike of the bus services, he would have to take the subway instead, which he severely disliked. There were a lot of weirdoes drinking too early in the fucking morning, and they were creepy as fuck.

Subway also meant he would not be able to pass by the pastry shop, which he decided was a good idea; he wouldn't want to stick around and seem like a loon to everybody's eyes.

That didn't make it any better when, out of the subway and thirty minutes early, he promptly turned around and walked two blocks back to get to the patisserie.

He felt silly, wanting to try and talk with the human more, but he'd clicked with him in a way he hadn't with anybody since Sollux, and that made him feel almost hopeful.

Sollux had moved to a communal hive on the other side of the city, working on his complicated coding for some agency or another, and when he got into those frenzies of his, Karkat had no hope to even see him aside from a spare, curt conversation over Trollian.

He sort of… dare he say it, missed the idiot. Then again, Karkat hadn't been much of a decent company for a while already, all because…

With a wince, Karkat stopped in front of the pastry shop.

The fragrant smell suddenly felt sour, and any kind of appetite had disappeared altogether at the thoughts he refused to let himself linger on.

Wrinkling his forehead, Karkat turned around and made to leave, but his eyes fell, against his better judgement, on the window, and between rows of pastries and cheerful confections of sweets, he saw Dave looking at him.

When he realised Karkat had noticed him, Dave lifted one two fingers in a salute, and Karkat, almost spluttering, waved back.

Oh. So the guy actually remembered him…

Dave motioned for the pastries, and Karkat, frantically shook his head, showing his wristwatch for good measure, trying to make Dave understand that he didn't quite have the time –not when he'd just walked for fifteen more minutes just to get there.

And thus not having any time left to actually get inside and buy a sweet.

Or talk.

Karkat cursed at himself, his idiocy, his absurd hopelessness and his rotting thinkpan, and with another curt, clipped wave, he turned around and ran towards campus.

He got there, once again, barely on time.

Saturday and Sunday, Karkat remained home.

He trolled Sollux, somewhat satisfied when the hacker managed to keep his attention away from coding enough to have a decent, almost coherent conversation with him.

They settled on an easy banter, throwing jokes and one-liners at each other for a while, and when he logged off, Karkat actually felt satisfied.

His talk with Sollux, though, cemented in him the realisation that Dave, although verbose and silver tongued, wasn't exactly like Sollux, and that left Karkat wondering who else, among the people he knew, made Dave feel so familiar.

Without a solution at hand, Karkat buried himself in blankets, curled up in his pile, and watched romcoms for the whole Sunday, ordering Troll Chinese takeaway because he didn't quite feel up to cooking.

Monday morning, Karkat decided to check the university website, just in case, and soon enough his hive echoed with curses and loud invectives dedicated to dear Professor Lodge, who had suddenly decided to announce his return on the main webpage… the same morning he'd have to have class.

Karkat had never hated Mondays more than he did in that moment.

Rushing out of his hive without even a cup of coffee to wake him up, Karkat managed to take the bus as it was leaving, though there were no places to sit anymore.

Just his recursive 'luck', obviously.

Karkat truly hated Mondays.

When he hurried down the street, uncaring whether he hit anybody, storming through crowded sidewalks and ignoring the curses sent his way –he was a walking bomb, no more a troll but simply a ticking mechanism set on explosion-upon-contact– he wouldn't have spared a glance to the pastry shop if a voice hadn't called him over, making him halt mid-stride.

"Oi, Karkat!"

Stuttering into a stop, Karkat's head whipped to the side, taking in the sight of Dave, dressed in the familiar uniform, offering him a small paper bag.

"I… you… what?"

"Ain't going to be letting you pass by without nourishment," Dave smirked, nudging his shoulder with the paper bag until Karkat relented and grabbed hold of it. "It's on the house," the human added when the troll hesitated, unsure what to do.

"No, fuck, I can't–"

"Shut your trap, I won't end up in the streets just because I decided to be less of a stingy asshole. It's not made of gold man, so just accept it and taste your paradise. You can call it advertising, if you see Shangri La during class more people might want to buy. Just saying".

Karkat didn't know what to say to that, and simply stared at Dave with wide eyes until the human waved at him, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"I was under the impression that you were running late…?"

With a loud clicking and chirruping, Karkat hurriedly thanked Dave, sprinting towards campus with the bag clutched to his chest.

Dave's eyes lingered on him until he turned the corner, disappearing from sight, then glanced to the side, hummed, and with a smirk returned inside the pastry shop.

Terezi, steady presence with her cane twirling in her fingers, snorted in amusement. For a moment she hesitated, looking at the window of the patisserie. She had tasted something in the air surrounding the human guy, a tangerine curiosity, but the scents were always so bland now that she was dead.

They never seemed to feel right anymore, so she let it go.

With a snicker, she followed Karkat's path, floating unhurriedly above the heads of the passers-by.


	3. Chapter 3

**SOY:** third chapter up, I hope you keep on enjoying this fic :D

…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: Mature for themes and later content.

**Warnings:** Karkat and Dave's speech. Mentions of past death.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HomeStuck.

…–…–…–…–…–…

**Phantom Limb**

**Chapter 03**

"Dave, could you please have a look at this list?"

Jane Crocker, 25, owner of Crocker's Pastries, one of the best patisseries in the city, slid out from the 'Authorized Personnel Only' area of the shop and gently tapped Dave's shoulder, making him turn around.

She was holding a paper in her hand, fingers and apron dusted white with flour, and he had to restrain a small smile when he found some white powder sprinkled on her nose.

Jane was his brother's best friend, one of those friendships that seemed to blossom from nowhere in a second and that lasted through rights and wrongs; she was also _his_ employer.

She was shorter than him by at least half a head, with hair combed like they were still living in the fifties –and despite that, it still looked fashionable on her, fitting– and plump curves that made her seem all the more motherly, but he knew better than to think her soft –she was a strong woman with a silk-covered iron fist.

He nodded, gazing down at the list; it contained mainly ingredients that Jane needed to stock up on, like chocolate, flour and sugar and the like, but Dave snickered slightly when he noticed a scribbled note on the upper corner in blue pen, depicting the CROCKER Corp Logo crossed out with hatred.

Obviously John had visited the shop before class, leaving behind traces of his passage.

The guy was Jane's cousin, but the only thing they had in common was a shared passion for tricks and pranks.

"The prices are correct," he told Jane after a quick check. "You'll need to set the amount and then calculate the 10% detraction you get, and then…" he noticed her lost look and grabbed a pen, jotting down the equations on a corner of the paper. "Here. Don't forget to sign the form when the courier arrives".

"I don't fancy having to work out all the things by myself, you'd better be around," Jane replied, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably. "I'll pay you extra if you're here when the courier comes with the actual orders!"

"No problem J, have nothing better to do 'round here".

Jane's eyes flickered towards the entrance of the shop, and her lips settled on a small smile. "Hey, isn't that your troll friend?"

Dave twisted his neck, and smirked when he recognised the familiar face of Karkat peeking through the window, eyes flickering from the pastries on display to him.

They had met like that every morning for the past week, just a few minutes of chat before Karkat had to leave for his classes, but it was a nice addition to his usual work routine.

With a casual, relaxed wave, Dave moved quickly out of the counter, grabbing a small, unassuming white package from behind it, and moved to the door.

"Sup?" he greeted, nodding at the troll.

His fingers tightened around the bag as he dangled it in front of the troll, who eyed it with a look of absolute, pure glee, unskilfully masked a second later as he looked up at Dave's face.

"You don't plan on making a freeloader out of me, right?" his eyebrows lowered enough to seem almost threatening, like black caterpillars on top of vibrant yellow sclera.

Dave idly tilted his head from one side to the other, eyes flickering from Karkat to the side, squinting slightly in the light even if he was wearing his shades.

"Nope, ain't the way I work around here, man. Just thought that you'd like some free samples. Call it–"

"–investment, I know, making clients run your way like moths to a flame, getting 'burned' but unable to stay away, and blah, blah, blah," Karkat rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. "You said that yesterday, too".

"Hey, I'll have you know that Striders never make a repeat. What was yesterday isn't going to be the same today, water under the bridge, no encore only privileged one-time-only shows, no refunds, only awe," Dave shrugged, and easily slipped the bag into Karkat's hand. "You should have gotten used to it already, Karkat".

With a soft snort, Karkat stole the bag from Dave's lax grip and wrinkled his nose, though to his defence he looked pretty protective over the sweets inside it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you. But I can't keep accepting freebies all the time. I'm not a charity case, and I'll let you know that I'm sufficiently backed up to buy pastries. Let me at least pay you in advance for the next week".

"Nah, that's what friends do," with another casual shrug, as if to minimise the impact of his words, Dave turned around and pushed the door of the shop open. "See you".

A hand darting forth to grab his arm stopped him, and he licked his lips, feeling slightly embarrassed for his words.

As such, he didn't turn around.

"You… are we friends?" the tone of the troll was not doubtful, but it did contain a note of disbelief.

"Uh, sure, told you the first time I saw you. We're two peas in a pod, bros forever, that sort of shit, man, ain't going to get rid of me anytime soon, I'll be practicing my raps all over your ass and you'll be converted to the glory of sicknasty rhymes, and–"

It was a fact that didn't make him proud at all, but Dave had a tendency to spontaneously burst into long, wordy rants whenever he felt pressured into something.

Talking in front of his professors, having a job interview, or blurting out stupid things when offering a pastry to a troll he'd met just a couple weeks before (ok, it was more like ten days, but who was keeping count? Definitely not Dave).

Dave's mouth always worked on its own, brain giving up control and letting his tongue roll out convoluted metaphors that only made things even more confused, acting as his only refuge to avoid personal embarrassment.

Karkat tugged his shirt with a soft growl. "Oh, no, you won't–" even if Dave couldn't see it, he just _knew_ the troll had just rolled his eyes at him. Karkat seemed to have that reaction around him a lot. "Shut that human trap for a moment and listen to me when I deign you with a reply, Strider. It might just as well make me want to leave right now if you keep spouting your usual acerbic pile of shit".

Dave's lips fell shut instantly, and he swallowed.

"It's… it's ok. Us being friends, I mean. Not you giving me gifts. I'd be profiting on you and that isn't what friends do, so stop being a colossal idiot and let me pay next time. Or at least offer you one of those horrid apple teas you seem to be so fond of".

Dave's lips twitched up in a small smile, and he once again shrugged, trying to look casual. "Whatever you wish, man. I never say no to free food… but are you sure you're not just wanting to get more of that coffee?"

"As if there was a doubt of that!" Dave turned around, slightly surprised to have the troll agree with him instead of replying with a curse, and found Karkat actually smirking. "I'm free this afternoon, so prepare yourself for a treat".

Dave snorted and nodded. "Enjoy your class, Karkat".

The bells on top of the door chimed pleasantly as he returned to his job, throwing a quick thank you at Jane, who had momentarily taken his place at the cashier; she was looking at him with an appraising look, and Dave felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze.

"What," he asked, almost defensively.

She wasn't one to make annoying comments, but she could be a tease sometimes nonetheless.

"I was thinking how much I'm going to make you pay for making plans right after you promised to help me," she replied with a small wry smile.

Feeling a bit cold, Dave retreated from her, raising both hands to try and pacify his boss.

"Uh… I–"

"You'd better hope you finish up everything before your chum comes over, or I'm going to take my sweet time chatting with John and Roxy!"

He winced. "Shit".

…–…–…

"Amusing, really amusing," Karkat observed with a smug look as he watched Dave hoist what looked like a very heavy box, dragging it inside the shop.

He could hear Dave huff in the distance, the noise of his footsteps fading away into silence as Karkat was left alone in the back, staring at the pile of packages and sacks of ingredients for the patisserie; the troll was sitting on a cassette of empty water bottles, a bit bored but overall mostly amused by the circumstances.

The back corner of the pastry shop was mostly empty of interesting things to linger on, so he simply waited for the human to come back. Dave was definitely enough to keep him entertained.

At his side, Terezi was thinking the same, cackling silently at the amusing sight of a flustered Dave struggling to bring the packages inside.

Dave resurfaced from the shop with a sigh, rubbing his lower back with one hand as he tilted his head to look at Karkat.

"It's _not_ amusing, man," he replied to Karkat's earlier comment, preparing to hoist another box up and into the shop. "You don't know Jane, she's like evil incarnate. Don't let her cute chubby face fool you, she's one hell of a monster–"

"I can see that," Karkat agreed, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"I _mean_ it," Dave scratched the back of his head, looking uncertain all of sudden. "You don't have to waste your time here waiting for me, though. Maybe we should reschedule or something".

He felt bad for making his friend wait like that, especially since Karkat had looked pretty set on offering him some tea, but that wasn't the only reason; despite always training, and having a lean, fit body, he was only good with things related to speed, not sheer strength.

He had a hard time hoisting all the heavy boxes into the shop all by himself, but that was his punishment and he'd have to accept it.

So, that part of him that was all ego and pride made Dave feel embarrassed to show how lacking he was in the strength department, especially to a new friend.

"Nah, I don't mind," Karkat shrugged, not looking bored at all. His lips twitched into an amused smirk. "Do you need a hand, though? You look like your weak, human arms aren't enough to sustain the weight of that box".

"Nah, man, don't bother, I can do it, I have everything under control here, chill as Arctic ice, nothing too heavy," Dave let his mouth run free again as he stared down at the next package, silently cursing at himself. "I'm _good_".

Karkat emitted a low series of weird, alien sounds –chirping and clicking and noises that were similar to cracking knuckles or snapping twigs– and Dave looked away, embarrassed because Karkat was laughing at him.

Next thing he knew, he was huffing under the box, heavy enough to make his arms ache, walking through the shop's backdoor; he didn't even notice when someone came up behind him, footsteps light, and then a voice, not ruffled or strained at all–

"Where do I have to put this, you useless fuck?"

Dave tilted his head to the side, aware that if he turned he'd drop the container, and then almost dropped it anyway when he saw Karkat holding up another package like it weighed nothing, yellow eyes fixed on him, waiting.

"How the fu–"

"Told you, you're just one useless sack of meat," Karkat replied easily, smirking. "Now, lead the way".

Cheeks turning darker in shame, Dave led Karkat down the corridor and into the storeroom, placing down the box he was holding with a grateful sigh. Karkat trotted to the corner and delicately placed the other package down, straightening his back and having the audacity to look completely fine.

Not even out of breath.

"You are totally inhuman, man".

"Of course, I'm a troll," Karkat replied with a pleased smirk.

Dave glared at him, though it got lost behind his shades, and turned to leave the storeroom, Karkat in tow, "Oh, fuck you, you know what I mean".

"Yeah, you lack terms to encompass how much better than you I am, and you are quite embarrassed to admit it," Karkat snickered as he followed him.

"Oh, I like your friend!"

Both Karkat and Dave turned around, finding Jane standing on the door of the kitchen, smiling brightly.

"He does look like he has some meat in the right places," Jane continued, tapping the edge of her wooden spoon against her cheek. "Seems like he has it all together, unlike you, Dave," she turned to look at him, her expression a mix of motherly and smug. "Maybe I should think about hiring him, rather than you! Hehe!"

Dave muttered something under his breath and hurried down the corridor, hoping Karkat would follow, but the troll actually seemed a bit hesitant, looking at Jane like he needed permission to move.

"Dave is lucky that you're a nice fellow, helping him out," Jane continued, winking at Karkat. "He's a poor nipper, but he does his fair share".

"_Jane,_" Dave called out, feeing totally humiliated by her calling him a little kid.

Karkat snorted slightly, amused at her light attitude and feeling oddly comfortable as they shared a moment at the expenses of his new friend.

It felt almost weird –he barely knew Dave, after all, so he was just getting into the dynamics of how to work around him and the people he knew– but it also felt nice, so he didn't question it, simply nodding at the woman before following Dave outside.

The two didn't speak much after that, but Dave also didn't comment when Karkat grabbed another box and continued aiding him; splitting the remaining heavy packages between the two of them, they managed to finish up things quickly, and Jane, smiling happily, offered Karkat some cake to bring home as a thank you.

"I noticed this is the one Dave gives you most often, so feel free to enjoy some at home and maybe share it with someone," with a smile, Jane returned inside the shop, and Karkat and Dave headed towards the tea house.

Karkat tightened his grip on the bag containing his pastry, feeling oddly flustered at the nice gesture, and muttered a soft thank you.

"Sorry 'bout that," Dave scratched his chin. He still felt a bit awkward, so he tried to think of something to talk about to dispel the weird aura. "_So_, how was your class today?"

Karkat glanced at him, then shrugged. "Professor has a habit of being a ludicrous mass of unadulterated barkbeast vomit, but today he's been almost passable with his tirade. I almost think I actually _learned_ something, can you believe it?"

With a small snort, Dave shook his head. "Sounds like you had a good day".

The streets were filled with people, moving in banks and fluttering from one side to the other in coordinated groups, stopping and walking at the same pace, all together, rehearsed movements of familiarity.

Cars honked, music waves fluttered away from radios, echoing in the air, adding to the cacophony of sounds, talking and laughing and screaming. To diffuse the noises, some people wore earphones, blasting music directly into their ears, and some hurried past where the noise was too loud, wincing and disappearing into the sea of faces.

In the middle of the crowd, though, Karkat and Dave walked together, chatting as if the chaos surrounding them was gone; with every step, a fragment of that awkwardness they still felt in their newly blooming friendship seemed to disappear as they idly spoke of their lives, accounting their school expectancies and making the walk feel far shorter than it was.

Behind them, forgotten and unseen, Terezi followed, watching them interact with the sort of glee that was tainted by the slightest envy –she wanted to be part of the group, to talk and share the jokes and laugh.

Terezi watched the way Karkat's mouth twitched slightly whenever they hit an uncomfortable subject that reminded him of something painful, the way he seemed to subtly retreat to himself; she watched how Dave, almost noticing it, was quick to intervene with his words, dissipating the uncertain aura with a joke, catching Karkat before he could pull away and dragging him back, making him snort and chuckle.

The human made Karkat _react_, made him joke and snort on his own, using his extensive vernacular to drag out snarky smiles and amused snorts from Dave.

The sight was enough to make Terezi dissipate her cane, her usual ever present companion, to grab her dragon doll again, holding it in blurry, transparent fingers until the contours of her skin and those of the small dragon melted together into the air.

Pushing the door of the tea house open, Karkat snorted in reply to something Dave had said, and Dave waved at the cashier, who gritted his teeth but nodded back at him.

The ambient was just as cosy as Karkat remembered from that first time, and his mouth watered simply at remembering the taste of that good coffee.

He'd thrown away all instant coffee he owned, vacating his usual routine of buying Starbucks (because who would keep on buying that shit when they had tasted better?), but with his chaotic timetable he hadn't had the chance to come to the tea room on his own before.

Since he had some time for once, Karkat decided to inquire about their various paradise coffees and instead of following Dave towards the tables he lingered behind, accosting the counter with his head held high, attracting the attention of the troll with a broken horn.

Dave glanced back at him for a moment, then slid to his usual table, stretching his legs under it, licking his lips and waiting for the waitress as his eyes lazily explored the local, safely hidden behind his shades.

"Hey, Dave!"

The rustblood bounced towards him, stopping for a moment to smile to an empty spot, then reached the table and leaned on it, offering him the menu.

The lines of Dave's face relaxed a bit as he smiled back, eyes returning for a moment to the counter, where the cashier was busy with the selection of coffee bags.

The waitress looked above her shoulder as well, a mischievous look appearing on her face as she quickly bent down to nuzzle Dave's cheek.

"Gotta pay attention, you don't want to upset Equius with your obscene romantic gestures while you're working, Ara," there was a teasing edge to Dave's tone, but he didn't protest when she wrapped both arms around his neck, burying her face into his messy hair.

"Shut up, it's been a long morning!"

"You have _no_ idea," he agreed, smiling up at her. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Don't even joke, I swear," she retreated, brushing one stray hair lock away from her cheek. "I am quite sure he's going to hire another waiter for the morning shift, which means I'll have to be the one to train them!"

"If you want I could try out working here, too," he teased, watching as her eyes lit up in amusement.

"Dave Strider, don't you even think about that! You know just as well as I do that you're unfit to serve people!"

"I serve them just fine over at the pastry shop, though," he rebuked.

"That's not the same, and you know it. Now shut up and order, your sweetheart's coming here".

"He's not my sweetheart, Aradia," he replied in a huff. "He's a friend".

She wrinkled her nose, managing to look even cuter than usual, round cheeks and big, expressive eyes. "The usual, then?"

Dave caught Karkat approaching the table, looking satisfied of himself, a medium-sized packet of coffee in a plastic bag, and smirked, "Make it a double, _he's_ paying," he winked, pointing with his head at the other troll.

"Is that so?" she turned around, smiling brightly at Karkat. "You want the house special again?"

"Uh, yeah," he glared at Dave, though it didn't hold any annoyance, and sat down, nodding as the waitress walked away. "You know her?"

Dave hummed softly, leaning on the table to play with a sugar packet and motioning Karkat to lean close as well, which he did, though seeming perplexed.

"She's been my secret lover for the last year," he confided, lowering his voice. "See the troll at the counter? He's her rightful matesprit, and we're having a flirt behind his back!"

Karkat's face flushed a dark grey, spluttering and pulling away from Dave, eyes wide and mouth twisted in a small grimace, and Dave kept his face as straight as he could, nodding softly.

The shock was quickly replaced by a small frown. "You–"

"–are a big fat liar," Aradia reappeared at their side, holding a small tray with a couple pastries on it. "Please do not heed his idiocy, he likes to say that to everybody to see how they react".

A bit baffled, slightly annoyed, but most of all relieved, Karkat relaxed a bit.

"And I'm not in a redrom with Equius either, Dave," she swatted him on the head, placing the pastries down. "This is on the house, they go well with your orders. Wait just a bit more until the coffee's ready, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, but don't you dare deny he'd die to have you in his quadrants, Ara," Dave snickered, grabbing one of the pastries and licking the outer sugar dusting, managing to get it all over his lips and chin. "Concupiscent ones," he added helpfully, voice muffled by the mouthful of pastry.

Karkat stared at him, unsure whether to wrinkle his nose or laugh at how silly the human looked like that.

He also noticed the way Aradia's fingers lingered in Dave's hair before retreating, and things finally clicked in his head.

"You are moirails," he accused, only realising the tone he'd used after he had spoken. "I mean, uh…"

"Yes!" Aradia smiled warmly at him, cheeky and showing off her dimples, and Karkat smiled back, reassured. "Though sometimes I wonder why I'm so nice to him!"

"Oh, shut it," Dave prodded her side. "Shouldn't you go back to work. Shoo. Shoo".

Aradia rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling, and walked away to check on a new customer who'd just peeked from the front door, leaving Karkat and Dave alone at the table.

Dave wiped away the excess of sugar on his chin and caught Karkat staring at him, a weird expression on his face.

"What? You didn't think me capable of troll relationships?" he teased.

Flustered, Karkat concentrated on his own pastry, biting on the soft, creamy surface and trying not to make it obvious the thought _had_ indeed fluttered through his thinkpan.

"It's not often you see humans tackling troll quadrants," he mumbled around his mouthful, feeling silly. "Usually it's just redrom or a weird attempt at ashen".

"Yeah. Me n' Ara have been friends since forever, and it didn't click until like, four years ago. I wasn't big on quadrant-y things, but uh, well," he shrugged, and Karkat had the feeling that he was oversimplifying matters, but decided not to pursue the subject, careful to keep threading lightly on other people's quadrant matters. "She's a keeper, I tell you".

Despite himself, Karkat had to smile a bit. There was a definite warmth in Dave's tone. Most trolls were sort of sceptic to start moirallegiances with humans, worried about how they wouldn't understand the depths of what it took to be in a pale relationship –the most important quadrant a troll could ever hope to fill, regardless of reproductive-focused ones.

Of course Karkat couldn't judge –he didn't know Dave enough, not yet (but he sort of wanted to. With all his silly rapping and rambling, and those idiotic shades he kept on wearing all the time, he was sort of a decent human being)– but it didn't seem all that bad.

On that subject, though… Karkat observed Dave as he munched on his pastry, once again dusting his face with sugar, and wrinkled his nose.

He had known Dave only for a couple weeks by now, and this was only the second time they had managed to spend more than a couple minutes together, but to say he was curious about his shades would be an understatement.

Opening his mouth, he tried to muster the courage to ask about them; the guy always seemed to wear his aviators even indoors, and if Karkat had to stick to his first impression, he would easily say that it was a way to seem cooler, even though in his opinion it only made the human look like a tool…

But no. This was too simplistic, not accurate enough. Dave wasn't shallow, or at least he didn't seem so to Karkat, who was no good judge of characters, but could still follow his gut feeling.

He was quite curious, and amused, and couldn't help but wonder what the real reason was.

Was there a medical condition that made it impossible for Dave to remove his glasses? Photo-sensibility was a thing for trolls, too, especially when their race was used to a perpetual nocturnal setting, so many trolls living on the planet suffered from that.

Maybe, if he tried to keep his tone bland enough for some idle chatter, he could get an answer while still being tactful about it… "Hey, why the fu–"

And swallowed the rest of his words when Ara returned to the table, bringing him his order.

Lost in the swirls in his coffee as he stirred it, Karkat momentarily forgot his question, breathing in the scent of the strong beverage before sipping it slowly, savouring the rich taste.

Yes, that was _good_.

When he came to, a few minutes later and the cup mournfully empty, the troll found Dave staring amusedly at him, his head tilted to the side as he idly tapped the teaspoon against the edge of his own cup.

"You _do_ enjoy that coffee," he commented, smirking like he'd just won the fucking lottery.

Karkat realised with a start that he was making a content clicking with the back of his throat, a sound that humans always associated to feline purring.

With a small embarrassed shuffle, he decided to make Dave focus on something else, so he opened his mouth, ready to scoff and demand information regarding the shades…

The door tingled open, and a cheerful voice echoed through the shop.

"Equius~!"

Karkat blinked, surprised at the familiarity of the voice. Was it…

He peeked behind his shoulders, and felt Dave lean across the table to look as well.

A troll had just slipped inside the tea house, bouncing over to the counter with a happy sound; she wore a military green jacket that, as opposed to the last time Karkat had seen her, now actually fit her lithe body, showing how she'd filled in since her childhood. On top of her head there was a snuggly blue hat and Karkat idly thought that certain things never changed.

"Nepeta," the soft rumble coming from the bartender –Equius– was full of the warmth that his countenance didn't show. His shoulders were tense, his back straight, and his lips were drawn into a small line, but his voice was enough to disprove this attempt at detachment.

He was actually happy to see her, and was trying to unsuccessfully hide it behind a reproachful gaze.

Nepeta bounced on the balls of her feet, and Karkat's eyes lingered where there had been a blue felt tail once, now gone. He half expected to see it appear and swish in time with her wiggling, but that didn't happen.

Time ran forth, and he wondered how much of Nepeta had changed since the last time they had talked.

"I was passing by and I really missed you," the playful tone in her voice was the same he remembered, and so were her eyes. "AC would like to get a hug if you purrlease?"

The cat puns hadn't changed, either.

Equius' coolness melted away into a sudden hesitance, fidgeting on the spot, and Karkat couldn't help but wonder just how those two had gotten together –and which quadrant? Nepeta's attitude suggested red, but which shade?

"That is exceedingly unwelcome, as I am working now, Nepeta," he stated, his tone coming off almost steely. Her face fell slightly, and even Equius seemed to melt at that. "But if you would like to wait, I take a break in a few minutes".

She brightened up instantly, and turned towards Aradia with a wink, her expression turning decidedly smug –clear sign she knew how to tug Equius' bloodpump the right way.

Then, her eyes flickered on Karkat, and the smugness was replaced with a barely contained excitement, bubbling on the surface and making her beam.

"Karkitty!" she purred, rushing towards the table.

Karkat spluttered at the nickname, hit by a wave of melancholy, then smiled at her. "Nepeta," he greeted. "It's been a while".

She nodded, smiling at Dave. "I didn't know you and Akwete Purrmusk were furrends!" she said, smiling so brightly Karkat spontaneously felt the need to wear sun protection.

He turned towards Dave, eyebrow lifted. "Akwete Purrmusk?" he asked, openly amused.

Dave had the decency to look almost sheepish. "Don't ask," he shrugged, then smirked. "Have to split my coolness in two distinctive parts or it will be far too much for the world to handle".

Karkat snorted, amused, then turned towards Nepeta again. "How are you doing?" he asked. "You still studying to be a vet?"

She nodded excitedly, pressing her hands together. "Yes, I'm going to do an internship soon around here," she looked healthy, happy, and ok, and Karkat shuffled a bit, guilt burning inside his guts at the thought that he'd failed to keep contacts with her. "Mr Stiffy there is my purrtner during courses, and we're weaving pale furr each other".

Karkat threw a glance at Equius, appraising him again now that he knew one of his old friends was dating him. The blueblood shuffled at the counter, clearly unsure what to do, and Karkat was amused to see he was so fidgety he was starting to sweat, wiping his palms on his apron and busying himself with shuffling around with some gift-packages on the shelf.

He glanced at Nepeta, and for a moment it felt like they were back during high school as they shared a knowing smile.

Wrinkling her nose happily, nudging Karkat with a finger and leaning closer, conspiratorially, Nepeta winked at him. "What about you, Karkitty? How's going between you and Terezi?"

Karkat's grip around his empty coffee cup tightened instantly, and all his amusement died all of sudden, replaced with an empty, gaping hole in his chest.

He looked down, suddenly fascinated by the grains of sugar scattered on the surface of the table, and felt Dave's attention shift on him, curious and worried. He heard a small intake of breath that signalled how Dave was about to speak, and then–

"Nepeta, if you want to have your hug, you'd better hurry up, my break won't be quite as long as you would like it to," Equius called out from the counter.

Karkat heard Nepeta falter, realising she'd said something wrong but not knowing what, but he wasn't quite paying attention. Then, he felt her retreat, hesitantly saying goodbye, but he still didn't look up.

Mentioning her name had been sudden, and it _hurt_, but Nepeta couldn't have known–

Dave had noticed the way Karkat was pulling away instantly; his shoulders hunched and he looked down at the table, not glancing up, and Dave felt a stir of worry inside his guts.

He wanted to ask what was wrong –but he somehow had the feeling that Nepeta had touched a subject that wasn't meant to come to light.

For a moment he wondered who Terezi was –maybe his ex, maybe he'd had a bad breakup– but he shook the curiosity away. This wasn't his place to ask, no matter how much he wanted to know.

They weren't close enough that he could ask things that made Karkat look so…

Pained.

"Oi, Karkat, I was wondering…" he racked through his brain in search of something to say, watching Equius lead Nepeta towards the back. He vaguely remembered something that Karkat said when they were walking towards the tea house, and thanked whatever god up there that John was a movie fanatic. "I heard there's a new movie with Will Smith out today in the theatres, supposed to be the shit, dramatic fucking plot. Wanna hit downtown and waste your afternoon on movie masterpieces?"

Karkat tilted his head up, peering at him for a moment, and Dave wondered, all of sudden, if he wasn't making things even worse.

He knew how to work around his friends –slick and smooth, because he knew them, and they knew him. But _new_ friends were different, and that was why he didn't make many of those.

Still…

Karkat shrugged. "I don't really feel like a movie," he muttered half-heartedly, gaze blank.

The troll stood up, slowly, almost as if his body weighted a ton, and looked down at his empty cup.

"I should just go home anyway".

Not knowing what to do, Dave looked up, and met Aradia's concerned eyes.

She slowly shook her head, and he deflated a bit, nodding.

"You sure man? I heard it's gonna be a huge hit," he tried one last time, though lacking conviction. "Ain't nothing better than watching a movie with friends".

Karkat looked at him, in the general direction where Dave's eyes were behind his shades, and hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking his head.

They moved towards the counter, where Aradia took Equius' place to ring up the bill. Dave offered to walk with Karkat to the bus stop, but he refused with a small shrug, so the human could do nothing but let him go.

The end of the afternoon turned out to be bleak, unsatisfying and sliced raw, like an open wound; it left a bitter taste in Dave's mouth and yet… he couldn't do anything.

Aradia's eyes lingered on the pained expression on Terezi's face as the ghost followed Karkat out of the tea house, passing through the wall without noticing; she was clutching the doll once again, as if to try and gain some sort of strength from it.

Terezi glanced back at her only once before the two disappeared behind a corner, and even then, Aradia had the distinct feeling that the ghost was crying, her tears vanishing into thin air as soon as they were out of her eyes.

…–…–…

Karkat moved automatically, not even focusing on what he was doing as he arrived home and removed the cake from his bag, placing it in the fridge before turning to get the coffee out of the package.

Methodically, he grabbed his usual jar and placed it on the counter.

Terezi looked at him, lips curled downwards, and cursed under her breath at the edge of heaviness his movements seemed to have.

She wanted to shake him, tell him to stop looking so pathetic, but she couldn't even do that –the barrier between her reality and his was too big.

Karkat took the coffee package out of the bag, and in doing so, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

He let it rest, assuming it was simply the receipt, and finished putting away all the coffee where it belonged before bending down to get it.

Instead of the receipt, though, he found himself staring down at a piece of paper clearly ripped from a notebook, with only one word scribbled on it.

'turntechGodhead'.

Karkat blinked, some of his lethargy retreating as he pondered over what that meant, finally coming to the conclusion that it was probably a trollian handle… or a pesterchum one.

Both programs were built to interact with one another (though with the faults of using two messengers of competitive brands), so whichever it was, adding it to Karkat's trollian would work just fine.

Still, that didn't mean he had any idea who…

Karkat's eyes widened a bit. This was probably Dave's handle. Who'd slipped that into his bag, though? Was it Dave's moirail, Ara?

He hesitated, unsure what to do with the name, before hesitantly turning towards his husktop.

The way he had left the tea house had been abrupt, and despite his lethargy, Karkat didn't want to seem ungrateful or cold. Dave had been friendly enough to him before, and he deserved, if nothing else, at least an apology.

He didn't feel like connecting on his laptop though. He wanted to just lay down on his pile and let his thoughts wander.

Still…

It wouldn't take much time. Just one quick, shameful apology, and then he could still bury himself somewhere and let the world fuck off; if Dave didn't want him to keep his handle, he would delete it afterwards, and no harm done.

With that in mind, Karkat nodded wordlessly to himself and shuffled to his husktop, flickering it on and watching the grub-powered machine slowly whirr to life.


End file.
